


Read your skin

by JulieVerne



Category: Bomb Girls
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 20:46:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11791146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulieVerne/pseuds/JulieVerne
Summary: Two chapter perspective of Betty and Kate living together after the war.





	1. Read Your Skin Like Braille

Kate sleeps in Betty's bed with her sometimes. Betty doesn't talk to anyone about it, not even Gladys. Not even Kate. Kate just slips in when she thinks Betty's asleep, and leaves before dawn. Sometimes Kate nudges one of Betty's limp arms over her, clutches the hand at the end to her chest.

Betty always thought she needed Kate more than Kate needed her. Betty's starting to think she might have been wrong.  
Those nights Betty breathes as quiet as she can.

And if Kate rolls over at some point to study Betty's face in the dimly-lit room, curtain never quite closed against the gentle hum of the street light outside it, well. Betty can pass it off at Kate being lonely, or indulging in a bit of hero-worship (Betty took the fall for her, after all)

Betty tells herself a lot of things that aren't entirely true, these days.

And sometimes Kate will come into the lounge room after a bath after a show, wrinkling her nose at the smell of cordite that never seems to dissipate from Betty's skin when she climbs on the couch beside Betty, sticks her head inside the newspaper Betty'd been reading and rests her head on Betty's shoulder. When Kate tilts her head back to look at Betty, Betty reads the newspaper as if her life depended on it. Betty uses the same soap but Kate smells so much better. Betty smells clean when she washes, but somehow Kate smells good. So Betty reads the same section of the newspaper over and over as Kate's wet hair damps Betty's dressing-gown until Kate yawns and nuzzles her face into Betty's chest and Betty has to tell her, very gently, that it's probably time for Kate to go to bed to distract her from the way the newspaper is shaking in Betty's hands.

\------

Kate still has nightmares, sometimes while Kate's still asleep in her room Betty can hear her stifled terror, and that's when Kate will commandeer Betty's bed. Betty's glad when she does, because the sound of her in pain across the hall is too much for Betty. Betty wants to rise, go to her but she knows she can't; not without having to explain herself and that's a conversation she's still not ready to have. It's a conversation Betty doesn't think she'll ever be ready to have. So it's a relief when her door creaks open and Kate creeps in, cold feet nudging against Betty's.

Sometimes while Kate's in Betty's bed she'll struggle or call out in her sleep, and that's when Betty runs her hands over skin like braille, revealing Kate's past by means of graffiti. It's a language Betty's learnt, over the years. If Kate wakes, she stares at Betty, blinking and wordless, somehow emptily. She'll let Betty bundle Kate into her, inside Betty's dressing-gown (the upstairs of Betty's house is too large to heat properly) and Kate doesn't say a word as Betty mumbles soothing nothings into Kate's hair. Kate clutches at Betty's ribs, and Betty feels tears that aren't hers on her cheeks. Kate won't speak to Betty the morning after, until Betty's made her a coffee. Kate knows that Betty knows that Kate sneaks into Betty's bed like a thief in the night, and it seems like Kate's not ready to have a conversation about that either. But once Kate's had her coffee, she'll smile, make breakfast, and send Betty off to the factory with a packed lunch and a wave at the front gate.

\-----

Betty finds shirts she thought she lost when Kate comes tripping quietly into Betty's room. Shirts Betty hadn't seen for months, thinking she must have lost them, or left them somewhere, or one of the girls took them while she were incarcerated. But Kate had them, all this time. Wearing them so close to her skin at night.

They fit different on Kate, tighter and looser both at once. Betty only notices on the nights she leaves the lamp on to read in bed, or knit a little, trying not to think of the sanctuary that lies behind two solid doors.

That Kate's safe is enough for Betty. That she's across the hall is torture.

\-----

Betty never goes to watch Kate sing, not anymore, but she never came to watch Betty box so they figure themselves even.

\-----

It's been months after Kate started sneaking into Betty's room when one night, as Betty's turning off the downstairs lights, Kate grabs Betty by the hand. Betty waits for Kate to say something, to explain herself, but Kate just looks at Betty nervously, and reminds Betty of the gangly fawn she met whose door wouldn't lock. Kate's fingers brush mutely against Betty's before Kate lets her hand go.

"Can I…" Kate drifts off, looks down, then grabs Betty's hand again, firms her grip on it. "Can I stay with you tonight?"

Betty leaves her hand passive in her own; she doesn't grasp or clutch at it. Betty just… lets it be, the way she tries to when any physical interaction is initiated by another woman; doubly so, if the woman is Kate.

"Might as well," Betty says a little gruffly. "Not like you won't end up there anyway." Kate's face spreads into a tentative grin, not sure if Betty minds or not. "Woulda kicked you out if you weren't welcome." And like that, the uncertainty fades from her face. "You know what I am, don't you?" Betty asks, mouth a little dry. Betty takes a swig from her glass of milk; Marco would never let Betty live it down, that she drinks milk at bedtime, but Kate pours them both a glass every night with expectant eyes and Betty can't disappoint her; not over something so stupid.

Kate's grip falters, then tightens. "You know what I am, don't you?" She retorts.

"Some days, I'm not so sure." Betty puts her empty glass down and lets Kate lead her up the stairs to Betty's (slightly smaller) room. Betty climbs into her bed and Betty's heart pounds as she watches Kate do the same on the other side. Betty should be used to this, but it's the first time either of them has acknowledged this and Betty's so nervous, so tightly wound that she lays there, stiff as a board as Kate arranges her limbs.

She arranges her limbs around Betty.

"I was singing tonight, about being alone, and I was feeling it too, when I remembered that all I had to do was step out of the club and into my home and… not be alone anymore."

When Kate finally kisses Betty, Betty expected her to taste of beer and wine, or surprise and fear. Betty didn't expect her to taste like… home.


	2. Read your skin like Heaven

Kate had been living with Betty for a while when she found herself drawn to Betty's bedroom when she woke at night. At first Kate just stood at the closed door, listening to Betty breathe on the other side, knowing she hadn't earned an invitation. Kate owed Betty enough for the largest bedroom in her little house, the one above the kitchen that keeps a little heat; the room Betty obstinately didn't want.

\-----

When Kate gets a paying gig, she tries to buy something nice; a steak that's more meat than fat, a carton of cigarettes, some fabric that Kate turns into curtains because Betty won't take rent from Kate which is just as well because paying gigs don't come along that often. Still, Kate tells herself, she's pursuing her dream.

Kate still dreams.

Kate still dreams of an alleyway, of a never-ending fight. Kate dreams of Betty in jail; Betty in the boxing ring, Betty's face beaten and defeated. Kate's seen the last often enough that it haunts her and one night Kate pushes Betty's almost-closed door open just to check on Betty's face.

It's not bruised. It's open with sleep and her lips hang loosely. Betty's knuckles, where they clutch the quilt, are smooth and scarred. But Kate knows Betty's always ready to pick a fight, ready to defend what she thinks is defenseless (usually Kate) and by now, well, Kate's already in Betty's room. By now Kate can't face the thought of her own (slightly smaller) bed. Kate needs to make sure Betty's here, that she's real, that Betty won.

That Kate won.

That Kate won her.

The thought flits through Kate's mind but she doesn't let herself dwell on it as she raises a corner of the quilt and slips under it next to Betty. Kate just needs a reminder, she tells herself, just a reminder that her father is dead and Betty is alive and not in jail and doesn't hate Kate and isn't out in a boxing ring but is here in the house she bought.

The house Betty bought, Kate thinks sometimes, for Kate.

Kate usually wakes up before Betty; Kate's used to waking at dawn with a policeman's knock on the trailer door asking her father to move on (like a gypsy or something, he'd say, once the policeman was carefully out of earshot). The point is, Kate wakes up before Betty and she feel embarrassed by her need the night before so she gets up before Betty can ask a question Kate can't quite answer.

\-----

The next night, Kate doesn't dream, but she finds herself outside Betty's door again. It takes a long time for Kate to go back to her own room.

\-----

It turns into a regular thing. Kate dreams, she wakes, she goes to Betty who manages to comfort her even in sleep. Sometimes Kate's nearly sure Betty's awake when she comes in, but Betty's eyes are always closed, and any contact Kate needs from Betty she has to initiate herself. Kate pulls Betty's arm over herself, when Betty's facing her, or if Betty's facing the other way, Kate will curl into Betty's back, woolen socks finding their way between Betty's feet. Kate might even rest a tentative hand on Betty's torso.

\-----

Sometimes Kate finds herself in Betty's room when she's finished her book, or the newspaper that Betty hoards at night, not even giving Kate a glimpse of it until Kate sneaks her head under Betty's arm and onto her shoulder. Kate can only read the page Betty's reading and Betty reads slower than Kate (but then, the only book Kate learnt to read was the Bible, and Kate's learning was heavily facilitated by blows from a belt at any misspelled or misspoken word.) Kate gets bored, and watches Betty read, thinking to herself that if she gets another show, maybe she can finally afford a record player, or a radio, or something that's more entertaining than Betty's heartbeat beneath her ear. But when Betty shakes her off, Kate misses the beat, the warmth.

\-----

Kate doesn't wait for the dreams any more. Kate knows they're coming, night after night. It doesn't seem fair; it was such a long time ago. Kate feels like she's paid her penance, that this should be over. That her brain should finally accept that her father is really dead and won't come bursting into Betty's house in the middle of the night, belt wrapped around the knuckles of one hand.

He can't hurt either of them physically anymore. But mentally? Kate's beginning to accept those scars take longer to heal than the simple ones on her back, the ones that Betty's fingers read like a map when she thinks Kate's asleep.

\-----

Kate's started having nightmares in Betty's bed now, which is ridiculous. Betty's right there, Kate can tell she's not hurt or dangling limply from Kate's father's cold dead hands. But it's better than before now, because Betty wakes, and she holds Kate, and she holds Kate like no one has ever held her, not even her mother except in stolen moments ('you'll coddle the child!' her father would yell) and when Betty's hands wander the interesting landscape of Kate's back she feels like Betty's sliding pieces of Kate back into place. Kate meets her eyes, and she knows she hasn't been stealthy enough to escape Betty's notice, that Betty knows that Kate regularly slips into Betty's bed without her permission but in that moment Kate knows that Betty knows why and Betty's eyes are full of sympathy and comfort and something else Kate's not quite ready to name. Where Kate's hand rests on Betty's back, the skin is smooth beneath her flannel pajamas. It feels like redemption, it feels safe and if heaven is anything like this, well Kate might have to try to end up there.

\----

It takes months, but Kate finally bites back her fear of rejection. (Betty has never rejected Kate. Betty only stayed away when she got out of jail because she didn't want to remind Kate of the stench of Kate's father that Betty thought clung to her. She only smells like cordite, now and then; yes, Kate does associate Betty with her father, but she's so much more than that. Betty reminds Kate of finally being free more than that action that bought that about. She reminds Kate that greater love has no man than he would lay down his life for a friend. If Betty can be that kind of friend to Kate, maybe it's time for Kate to stop being scared and lay out her own life for Betty. Kate's almost an orphan, but Betty's all the family she needs.)

Kate was singing 'I'm getting sentimental over you', and she thought of what Betty would be doing at this hour, padding around in the clunky socks Kate knit her ('I like them!' she protested when Kate tried to take them back so she could fix the heel), making a cup of tea and reading the paper in her dressing gown, and Kate found that she was getting a little sentimental, a little lonely. Song after song, Kate couldn't keep Betty out of her mind.

So Kate takes Betty's hand and asks Betty if she can stay with her. Betty smirks a little but acquiescences to Kate's request. Betty reminds Kate that what she is hasn't changed, and Kate looks her blankly in the eyes and reminds Betty that Kate's a murderer (man-slaughterer); Kate won't be passing any judgement. Kate lets out a breath that she didn't know she was holding, and leads Betty up the stairs, once she's finished her milk. (No one would know it too look at her, but she loves a glass of milk at night. Like a cat, Kate think absently, feet feeling for familiar steps.)

\-----

Betty looks so nervous in her own room, in her own bed that Kate's almost sorry she asked. But then Kate lies next to Betty and tangles their limbs together like she's been longing to for weeks. Months, maybe. Since before Betty won a house in a boxing match (Kate's still not sure how that worked).

It feels like Betty's frozen with terror, so Kate takes her chin and turns Betty's face to her own. Betty tastes like freedom and hope, and milk, and Kate wonders why she didn't do this sooner.

Betty tastes like home, and when Kate pulls back to look at her, Betty's eyes are watery.

"This might be your house," Kate tells Betty. "But you are my home."

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this after one of my friends died in 2014 and I couldn't stop thinking about her skin like braille beneath my fingertips.
> 
> Rest in Peace.


End file.
